Miscommunication
by aces
Summary: Old friendsenemies.


Borrows the name David A. McIntee gave the Master in his MA Dark Path but nothing else from that book. This belongs to the "seriously fucked up" category, I think, not to mention being decidedly AU in some ways. My brain is weird. Oh well. You have been duly warned.  
  
Miscommunication  
  
It all began when they met.  
  
All those centuries ago, thrown together at the Prydonian Academy. He had smiled shyly and introduced himself, shaking long hair out of blue eyes, and Koschei had responded eagerly, just as unnerved and desperate for someone with whom to go through this new ordeal.  
  
Had he even then compared himself to his new friend?  
  
***  
  
"I'm here," the Doctor said coldly, standing in the doorway, lit from behind. The room in front of him was in darkness, too complete to see anything.  
  
"I know you are," the Master responded mildly.  
  
His youthful face was suffused with an angry flush; indignant, righteous, even still a hint of pity and confused hurt. He was so young, this incarnation, without remembering what it was like to be young. The Master liked that. He liked that his old friend was just as frustrated as he was.  
  
***  
  
They had remained best friends throughout their studies. A pair of mischief makers, risk-takers, egging their classmates on in dares, experiments, games. They led study groups together, they threw parties after curfew, they were lab partners.  
  
Sometimes Koschei resented his friend. His friend might not have gotten the better marks, but he always got more of the attention. Koschei would introduce some new topic of conversation and his friend could immediately spout off some tidbit about it, converse intelligently about it without much thought, even if he was completely making up whatever he said on the spot. He argued better and looked more handsome.  
  
Most of the time Koschei didn't mind. But, sometimes, he was a little resentful.  
  
***  
  
"I'm surprised at you," the Doctor said and took a cautious step forward into the darkened room. The Master admired the gall that took. He would never have walked blindly into an obvious trap without being able to see his adversary. Without having already planned how to kill his adversary.  
  
"This isn't your usual style at all," the Doctor continued, becoming just another shadow as he entered further. Even his beige outfit, his pale skin, couldn't glow in this blackness. The Master liked that too, liked that the Doctor could be swallowed up by darkness.  
  
"You're usually much more flamboyant," the Doctor went on, and the Master could tell he'd stopped moving, had centred himself in the room. "And more large-scale."  
  
"We all change, Doctor," the Master said. "You're far more sanctimonious than you used to be."  
  
***  
  
The resentment grew when his friend seemed to start thinking Koschei really was only second best anyway.  
  
At first, Koschei told himself he was imagining things. His friend wasn't really bragging when he mentioned his skills in opening transdimensional doors on the sly; his friend wasn't really sniffing disdainfully at Koschei's choice in friends, projects, extracurricular activities. It was all in Koschei's head, which could admittedly be a little paranoid sometimes. Sometimes Koschei felt ashamed of his thoughts, especially when his friend grinned at him shyly, or when they shared a still-giddy laugh.  
  
People talked about his friend. People were always talking about his friend. He got in trouble, he said something amusing, he was a leader. He was always ready to give out advice, he was always ready to talk and listen when someone had a problem. He was positively eager to help everyone.  
  
Koschei seethed. But he didn't mention anything.  
  
***  
  
"Why are you here?" the Doctor asked bluntly, and the Master was surprised. The Doctor liked to be subtle. He liked to taunt. The Master knew this well.  
  
"Why are you?" he shot back silkily.  
  
"My companions and I were passing through," the Doctor answered. "We were at one of the local dining spots when we overheard a conversation concerning the extremely odd stranger in town. Naturally I was curious."  
  
"Eavesdropping, Doctor," the Master sighed sadly. "Really. And you were such a promising student. Reduced now to listening to others' gossip. What has the Universe come to?"  
  
"You were a promising student, too," the Doctor's voice was sharp, the breathy, weak tone he liked to affect in this incarnation positively nonexistent. "Reduced now to megalomania. What are you doing here?"  
  
"Why don't you think on it a while," the Master suggested idly. "I'm sure you'll come up with an appropriate answer."  
  
***  
  
His friend didn't seem to have noticed any change. His friend was still cheerful as always, asking him if he wanted to study for that temporal engineering exam, if he wanted to go with the others and visit the Shobogan, leaving him an occasional gift of some strange alien food delicacy in that odd but generous way of his.  
  
But Koschei was tired of being second best.  
  
Koschei needed to prove himself.  
  
***  
  
"Stop this nonsense!" the Doctor's voice was an impatient whip crack. It contained all the authority of a boy, the boy the Master still vaguely remembered meeting for the first time, shyly brushing too-long hair out of blue eyes. The Doctor had gone full circle already. Where could he go from here? the Master wondered. Perhaps in circle after endless circle. Sometimes the Master worried that was what had happened to him. But usually he had more important things to consider.  
  
"Aren't you tired of this?" the Doctor asked and yes, it was almost like he was reading the Master's mind, but the Master was used to that phenomenon which might have otherwise been unsettling. "This constant fighting, your plots and my stopping them?  
  
"Why can't you let this go?"  
  
"What is there to let go?" the Master asked, and his voice dripped with innocence. "What do you think this is about, my dear Doctor?"  
  
***  
  
Koschei distanced himself. Koschei started pushing, prodding, tinkering. What would happen if he did this? What would happen if he said that?  
  
He was quite scientific about it.  
  
Koschei brooded. Koschei tested his friendship to its limits. Koschei broke it deliberately, smashed it against the ground and was satisfied with seeing the broken shards grounding into his friend's face, psyche, metaphorical blood-tears dripping.  
  
Blue eyes, confused and hurt.  
  
"Why?" his friend asked.  
  
"Because I can," Koschei replied complacently.  
  
***  
  
The Master could feel the Doctor searching, hunting through the darkness to see his enemy. The Doctor wasn't actually moving, only searching with his eyes, his other senses. The Master was sure the other man wouldn't be able to find him.  
  
"When did this happen?" the Doctor asked, and the pain in his voice surprised the Master. "We were friends. Why-Koschei, how did we come to this?"  
  
"Why should I tell you, if you can't even remember?" the Master asked.  
  
"Childishness!" the Doctor accused, and the Master could imagine his face twisted with anger, though he couldn't see it.  
  
"Petulance," the Master chided softly, with a smirk.  
  
He could feel the Doctor attempting to regain control. The Master felt a small gleam of triumph.  
  
"You always took things too far," the Doctor said sadly. "You never let anything go. All this over some childish falling-out?"  
  
"No, Doctor," the Master replied calmly. "That was long ago. This is about much, much more."  
  
It was, the Master sometimes had to remind himself. It was about control, and order, and power. It wasn't just about proving he was better than his old friend.  
  
***  
  
It all began when they met.  
  
Even at that first meeting Koschei had compared himself to his new friend.  
  
***  
  
"It's not," the Doctor said with quiet conviction.  
  
"What's not?" the Master asked idly, having lost interest in the conversation. He was sure he had won, this time. Just a small victory. But he had proved to himself something. He had proved to the Doctor something. A small but important victory.  
  
Perhaps now the Doctor would respect him.  
  
"It's not about much more," the Doctor said, and he was moving again, walking directly to the Master. The Master tensed but found he couldn't move.  
  
The Doctor stopped in front of him, so close, his beige coat and pale skin showing up just a little against the darkness.  
  
"I've always been better than you," the Doctor whispered to his old friend. He let the silence stretch between them, endless, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, away from the planet altogether, never looking back.  
  
Koschei listened to the ringing silence left behind. 


End file.
